


11/11

by jxxhyxns



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, The Pocky Game, not sure how to tag this because it is mostly just jihoon being a panicked gay for 4k, teeny bit of angst though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 06:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16826803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxxhyxns/pseuds/jxxhyxns
Summary: Rational thought flees at the proximity and in its place is the suggestion, the temptation to take advantage. If a pepero kiss is the only chance of a kiss with Daniel that he has, perhaps he should make the most of it.♡ Nielwink doing the Pepero Challenge for [Red String of Fate: Day 1] ♡





	11/11

**Author's Note:**

> there's not really such a thing as 'fix it' fic in rps but the fact that wanna one had a fan event on nov 11 and _didn't_ do the pepero challenge game thing was something i felt the urge to rectify ;; (i totally understand why it wasn't on reebok's agenda djsjdsk but i had to put it on mine)

The fans see it before Jihoon does; he can tell from the screams. He only understands why they’ve taken on a mildly hysterical pitch when he looks across the circle to see that the only other hand that has played ‘scissors’ to match his own belongs to Daniel.

Of course.

_ Of course. _

Of course it would be Daniel, because Jihoon has had far too favourable a run of luck these days. He’d stumbled upon the perfect canine companion to adopt as soon as he’d set his heart on the idea. He’d been the happy recipient of special attention from Kim Taehyung at the MGA last week. He’d managed to sneak an extra portion of meat at dinner every night this week without the manager noticing. Too good to be true, his time in the sun had to come to an end sooner or later, and perhaps the  _ jegi _ Sungwoon had accidentally sent flying into his face earlier on should have been a sign that today is where it all unravels.

All the same, Jihoon himself will do his best not to visibly unravel; not in front of the fans and all their cameras, not in front of the other members and their gleeful teasing, and certainly not in front of Daniel and the sweet, naive smile he gives Jihoon as the latter reluctantly moves to stand beside him. Jihoon thinks he’s done a fairly sound job of hiding the little crush he has going on, the one centred around Daniel no less, and he’ll be damned if he lets something as trivial as partnering with him for the pepero challenge erase all the effort he’s put in so far.

It’s easier said than done, though. Especially when he can feel the tips of his ears begin to burn red without permission at the mere idea of the two of them holding something as delicate as a pepero stick between their mouths and closing the distance centimetre by centimetre.

When the other pairs have been decided, and Jisung has been invited to help the MC for the Reebok event to judge the competitors, it is Seongwu and Minhyun who find themselves lined up first. Seongwu is grandstanding to the crowd, boasting that they’ll be the winners while Minhyun is amused enough to return the exaggerated kissy faces being sent his way.

_ “These hyungs are shameless _ ,” Daehwi can be heard to scoff at the show they’re putting on and Jihoon tends to agree.

Jihoon watches with only half a mind on the action that has everyone yelling; he has to concert effort and devote at least half his concentration into calming his thundering heart and quelling the shudders of anticipation that threaten to run through him at the thought that he and Daniel will be up next.

Daniel, on the other hand, seems far more relaxed, doubling over in laughter at the way a frustrated Minhyun, perhaps concerned that Seongwu’s antics will cause the stick to break, takes Seongwu’s head between his hands and surges forward to close the gap further. The fans scream louder, if possible, and Jihoon wishes he could do the same, although less to do with anything Seongwu and Minhyun are doing, and more to do with the way Daniel is bracing himself on Jihoon’s back in amusement.

He’s almost envious, really, that Daniel is so unbothered by the fact that soon it will be the two of them playing out the contrived fanservice scenario currently taking place before their eyes. Perhaps Jihoon would be more envious of how this is all so inconsequential to Daniel if he was not so preoccupied with wishing that it wasn’t.

He wants Daniel to be nervous, because then Jihoon wouldn’t be alone in his trepidation. He wants their skinship to matter to Daniel in the same way it does to him. Yet, Jihoon doesn’t know if he really wishes Daniel was as bothered as he is by the imminent challenge. After all, there’s no guarantee that it would be for the same reasons as Jihoon, and if this were to somehow be the limit ― for all the arms thrown around shoulders and hands left weighing on knees, for all the skinship that Daniel has initiated between them so far ― if this potential for a kiss disguised as a party game turns out to be where Daniel would draw the line, Jihoon can’t think of a scenario in which that wouldn’t hurt, no matter how much he might understand it.

Jihoon barely even remembers the next pair, Woojin and Jaehwan, making their attempt and soon the MC is calling upon Daniel and him for their turn.

Jihoon takes the pepero box and slides one out, finding it in him to raise his eyebrows at Daniel in challenge before placing it between his lips. He has to fight the instinct to bite down, to eat the snack without thinking, because it’s been longer than he’d like since his last meal but he exercises self-control as he shuffles closer to Daniel, hopeful that he can apply the same measure of control across the board, to any other urges that may arise in proximity to the object of his affections.

He glances up at Daniel to gauge his expression, unsure how to proceed since they hadn’t really talked about it, but he nearly chokes on the pepero stick when he sees the way Daniel is looking at him.

That same look Jihoon thinks he catches snatches of, every now and then when something flickers across Daniel’s gaze that Jihoon can’t put a word to. Jihoon thinks he can’t blame himself for having hope sometimes, not when he catches Daniel looking at him like that ー like he wants something from him that he dare not ask for. Jihoon wonders whether Daniel is watching closely enough to see the shiver that runs through him at the intensity of the attention. He wonders how often Daniel looks at him like that without him noticing.

But more often than not, as quickly as it has appeared, that tell-tale glimmer of  _ something _ will vanish and Jihoon will be left wondering if he’s simply imagined it. Simply projecting his own wants and desires into the depths of Daniel’s eyes.

In the here and now, though, as Daniel gazes down at his partner who stands tense with the pepero stick perched between his lips, the only word Jihoon can find to describe that look is  _ hungry _ . The kind of hunger that can’t be satisfied by the sweet snack on offer between Jihoon’s lips.

Distracted by his own thoughts, Jihoon is taken by surprise when Daniel brings his hands up to cup Jihoon’s face. They’re warm and calloused against his skin and he is a breath away from swooning, fighting the urge to let his eyes flutter closed, as Daniel leans in to take the other end of the pepero stick into his mouth.

The moment they make eye contact, a giggle bubbles up in Jihoon’s chest that he has to fight hard to suppress, lest it develop into a fully-fledged grin that will threaten to snap the stick when they’ve only just started. It seems like Daniel is having the same struggle, eyes crinkled with amusement and lips pursed tightly to hold back his own laughter.

Though Daniel’s hands remain steady on his jaw, Jihoon finds himself clutching at Daniel’s upper arms for balance, aware that the hints of nervous laughter and the way he is forced to look up at Daniel are already causing him to teeter unsteadily. Their position feels oddly intimate for what is, at the end of the day, simply intended as a source of cheap laughter, but Jihoon’s heart thuds at the knowledge they will only have to get closer as the game progresses.

They didn’t talk about tactics beforehand; Jihoon too nervous to contemplate the imminent situation and Daniel too enraptured in the antics of others to care. Now, it seems, rather than the both of them moving at the same time, Daniel has taken control, holding Jihoon securely while he inches closer. It only worsens the erratic beating of Jihoon’s heart and he is concerned that eventually Daniel will be able to hear it.

Daniel is not frantic in his movements like Jaehwan and Woojin had been, nor is he as aggressively ambitious as Seongwu and Minhyun. Instead he cradles Jihoon in his palms with the utmost care, as if Jihoon were the fragile one and not the thin length of biscuit stretching between them. It’s becoming more difficult for Jihoon to make or keep eye contact, always looking down again, fighting a blush off his cheeks and his flustered state is not helped when he can feel Daniel’s warm breath fluttering against his skin.

If it weren’t for the screaming of the fans and the exclamations of the other members around them, Jihoon would truly be convinced that it was only the two of them in the whole world. Just him, Daniel, and their pepero stick. It makes it easy to pretend there is only one thing keeping them apart.

Rational thought flees at the proximity and in its place is the suggestion, the temptation to take advantage. If a pepero kiss is the only chance of a kiss with Daniel that he has, perhaps he should make the most of it. Feign a clumsy spike in competitiveness that sees him lurching forward to shorten the stick and accidentally brush his lips against Daniel’s.

It would be easy enough to do; even an expected occupational hazard of the game they’re playing, arguably one that their audience is waiting for.

He could lie to himself that the indulgence is fanservice rather than his having succumbed to his own desires, but the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that overpowers the lingering sweetness of the chocolate between his lips. He knows that, accident or not, any contact of his mouth on Daniel’s will require an extravagant act of revulsion in the aftermath in order to play it off. Or so Jihoon has observed from every other permutation of this game he’s seen played by idols on screen.

The deceitful nature of the temptation makes Jihoon feel ashamed for wanting to steal a kiss from his friend without a thought as to the repercussions or how Daniel might feel, regardless of whether it was passed off as an accident.

They’ve been taking too long, though, and the MC decides to give them a countdown. As the numbers drop, Daniel becomes more harried and, as a result, more clumsy.

For a heartbeat, Jihoon thinks the brush of lips that has consumed his thoughts is actually going to happen, whether he wants it to or not, but before their lips can touch, Daniel is wrenching himself away, jerking back hurriedly, almost violently, causing the pepero stick to snap and leaving Jihoon to catch the remnant that falls, waiting to be measured.

Disappointment drenches Jihoon like a sudden downpour, not at the missed opportunity, but at the strength with which Daniel reacted, clearly so spooked by the ghost of a kiss, so discomforted, that he lost, even if only momentarily, the composure he has so carefully kept all this time.

Jihoon is then glad he had not given in to his imaginings and orchestrated a kiss. He couldn’t bear it if Daniel were to look at him in disgust, but all the same, it hurts just as much now as Daniel refuses to look at him at all, even as his easy-going persona falls back into place.

When Jisung and the MC measure the length of pepero left over, it’s clear there’s no way they’ll be winning and Jihoon is grateful that at least he can pass off his dejection as being irritation at their losing.

In fact, they lose by so considerable a margin that it leaves them in charge of washing up after dinner, much to the joy of the maknae line whose turn it would have been to do the dishes.

“If you weren’t so scared of a little kiss, we wouldn’t be here,” Jihoon finds himself saying as he reaches for another plate amidst the soap suds.

“What? No I wasn’t.”

Daniel’s voice sounds odd, so Jihoon chances a glance, raising an eyebrow. “You sure? I think you almost tripped in your haste to get away.”

Jihoon tries his best not to come across bitter, but if a shade of it slips into his tone then doesn’t he have some sort of right to it? As a friend, isn’t it feasible he would be hurt by the vehemence with which Daniel recoiled? Or, as a friend, should he not have noticed? Should he not be bothered?

He can run himself in circles, into the ground over and over, trying to trace paths of logic and expectation about what he should and shouldn’t feel, how he should and shouldn’t act in order not to give himself away. He’s tired, so tired, but the idea that he will only have to pretend just a little longer, just a couple more months, doesn’t bring any relief either.

“You sound like you  _ wanted _ me to kiss you.”

There it is again, that tone of Daniel’s that Jihoon can’t quite put his finger on, can’t quite understand, but this time he dare not look up.

Jihoon knows that in letting slip his flippant remark earlier, he has walked himself right into this question. (And a question it is, without a doubt, no matter how it might be phrased otherwise.) He wishes it wasn’t so easy for his self-control to slip when it comes to Daniel.

Jihoon keeps his gaze fixed on the dish in his hand. “I wanted to win,” he offers by way of excuse though his competitive spirit has never preoccupied itself with pepero victories.

“So did I, but not as much as…” Daniel trails off and  _ God _ , does Jihoon want to look at him. To work out what he might have been about to say, whether it is written on his face.

But he’s too scared of what his own face will reveal, so he keeps his head down, letting Daniel take the now thoroughly well-scrubbed dish from his hands and begin to dry it.

To Jihoon’s surprise, Daniel picks up where he left off. “I wanted to win but...not as much as I wanted to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable.”

Now  _ that _ gets Jihoon’s head to snap up. It hadn’t occurred to him that Daniel’s reaction may have been out of consideration rather than self-preservation.

“Uncomfortable?” he repeats the word, as if to check that he’s heard it right.

A smile curls at the corner of Daniel’s lips. “You’re not our biggest skinship enthusiast Jihoonie, that’s for sure.”

And Daniel isn’t wrong, but what can Jihoon say?

_ I don’t mind as long as it’s you. _

_ If it’s you, I’m happy with everything. _

_ I’d rather you be touching me than anyone else. _

“I wouldn’t have minded,” is what he says but he doesn’t expect the frustrated sigh that escapes Daniel’s lips.

“But I don’t want you to just be tolerating it; tolerating me.”

Somehow, this conversation feels like it is hurtling out of Jihoon’s control in a direction he didn’t expect, a direction he’s not sure the destination of.

There is a shadow of pain in Daniel’s eyes, of wry self-deprecation, that Jihoon doesn’t want to see. Hopes he’ll never see again. He can tell that Daniel, unwittingly or not, has revealed something a little deeper, an insight of a little more importance than a mere pepero challenge.

Jihoon responds to that openness in the only way he can think of; he dips his hand into the dishwater and gives Daniel a good old splash.

“Idiot,” he hisses as Daniel splutters. “I don’t just tolerate you. I- I... _ opposite  _ of tolerate you!”

Far from eloquent but at least it has Daniel laughing. Jihoon relaxes at the sound. This genial Daniel radiant in amusement is familiar. Safe.

“ _ Opposite of tolerate me? _ ” Daniel teases. “So you’re  _ in _ tolerant of me, then?”

Now Jihoon is the one frustrated, spluttering, and his knowledge that Daniel is very clearly enjoying riling him up only serves to increase his incoherence and the heat in his cheeks.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jihoon manages to grind out, avoiding Daniel’s eyes.

“Then what did you mean?” Daniel has given up on the drying of dishes just as Jihoon has lapsed in his role of scrubbing at them. Instead, he leans, hip against the counter, facing Jihoon with a steady countenance and clear gaze, no traces of amusement to be found.

What  _ did  _ he mean by it? In essence; “You’re my friend and I like you, Niel ― and that includes the part of you that loves initiating skinship.”

Daniel doesn’t need to know he means those words as far from platonically as conceivably possible. And, by Daniel’s lack of reaction ― the way in which he does not freeze in shock or horror ― he must take the words exactly as Jihoon wants him to. For Jihoon though, it is a little too much truth for his liking and he cannot quash the impulse to even it out.

Again, Jihoon reiterates falsely, “It wouldn’t have mattered to me if you’d kissed me on accident during the game. It’s just a game.”

_ That _ , for whatever reason, is what evinces a reaction from Daniel. Somehow, it is not what Daniel wanted to hear. Jihoon has no idea what Daniel wants, from him or from this conversation.

“Yeah,” Daniel intones as he turns back to the sink and begins to rub dry a pair of chopsticks a little more vigorously than is probably necessary in pursuit of hygiene. “It’s just a game.”

Jihoon flounders for a response as he takes up the scrubber again. “I’m sure the fans would have liked it though.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jihoon can just make out the way Daniel’s hand has clenched around the chopsticks. The knuckles are turning white and Jihoon is a little concerned, mostly because with so many of them in the dorm, even with the two apartments, it’s a miracle they maintain enough pairs for all of them to eat with, given how many get misplaced. It won’t help if Daniel breaks one.

“I don’t care what the fans like.” 

Jihoon is aware enough to know there’s an implication, but he’s unable to seize on what exactly it is. Reading between lines, or trying to, has always given him a headache.

“Isn’t that our job, though? To care about what the fans like.”

“And as your friend, it’s my job to care about what  _ you _ like. I’m not going to kiss you just because the fans might want me to.”

“And if  _ I _ want you to?”

There is no carefully crafted tone for the words that Jihoon hadn’t planned to say. The teasing lilt he tries to tack on as he realises, horrified, that the sentiment has begun to spill from his lips, fails miserably and instead what lingers in the air between them is a cold proposition; an all too sincere challenge that Jihoon has unwittingly laid at Daniel’s feet.

In reality what they are talking about, the so-called  _ Pepero Kiss _ , would merely have been a brief brush of the lips, less than a second of contact. Barely even counting as a kiss, though that is how Jihoon’s mind had framed it. Apparently Daniel had been thinking of it that way too.

They’ve been talking in circles and frankly, Jihoon is tired of the way it dizzies him.

Daniel squints at him, as if his words were somehow ambiguous, but comes to note the stubborn lift of Jihoon’s chin, the resolve gleaming in his eyes now that the words are out there.

All the tension seems to have bled out of Daniel and there is a softness to his regard that takes Jihoon aback at how different it is from the intensity of the stares he has come to recognise and derive hope from. He has no way of knowing if they mean the same thing.

The fondness emanating from Daniel’s eyes envelops his words, too, as he says, “ _ Close your eyes.” _

Jihoon hesitates. It’s not the response he expected from Daniel and he fears the way things could change between them, for better or worse, in quite literally the blink of an eye.

“Jihoon.”

He’s always liked the way Daniel says his name, but this time, it feels as if what Daniel is saying instead is:  _ trust me _ .

So Jihoon does.

He swallows and lets his eyes close.

Now that he can no longer see Daniel, Jihoon is suddenly hyperaware of everything around him. The hard press of the cabinetry against his back where it meets the corner of the counter. The low fizz and pop of the detergent foam in the sink. The gap between him and Daniel, the exact distance of which he is now no longer able to gauge.

The only clues he really has as to where Daniel is are his steady breathing and the warmth of his body and Jihoon tries to imagine it, tries to picture what is happening against the dark backdrop of his eyelids. Daniel stepping closer, Daniel leaning over him, Daniel ghosting his li-

Jihoon startles, greeted with something soft and wet against his cheek and he opens his eyes in shock to realise Daniel has smeared his face with foam from the sink in retaliation for the way Jihoon had splashed him earlier.

“You  _ jerk _ ,” Jihoon hisses, snatching a tea towel from the bench and weaponising it against a laughing Daniel, cracking it like a whip.

Daniel, wincing, raises his hands in surrender and Jihoon relents, pausing to wipe the foam off his face with an expression of mild disgust. “Niel, that’s gross.” It is dishwater, after all.

Jihoon scrunches his nose and pouts, hoping to disguise the way his ears have flushed red in embarrassment. Daniel could have just refused the proposition in so many words, instead of stringing him along like that, but Jihoon can begrudgingly admit he knows the other man well enough to be sure the joke wasn’t intended maliciously. It’s clear that Daniel had wanted to avoid any potential awkwardness and instead delivered his rejection wrapped up in a jest, so as to affirm the casual, comfortable dynamic between them and reassure Jihoon that it wouldn’t change.

Daniel is thoughtful like that, and Jihoon can’t bring himself to deny the way his heart squeezes at the reminder of one of the many things Jihoon loves about him. 

Jihoon sends Daniel a smile to let him know he’s not really upset and turns back to the sink with a good-natured laugh, intending to get on with the washing of dishes so they can finally get to bed and he can deal with the emotional fallout of his own loose mouth then. Daniel, it seems, has other plans.

Jihoon doesn’t expect the arm that wraps around his waist, doesn’t expect the way Daniel pulls him into his chest in one swift movement, leaving Jihoon looking up at him with wide, startled eyes.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Daniel apologises, clearly still amused. “Let me make it up to you.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Like this,” Daniel says as he takes Jihoon’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head up, and kisses him.

Finally. Properly. Like Jihoon has been hoping, waiting for - for longer than Daniel knows.

Daniel kisses him gently, like he’s giving Jihoon the time and the chance to regret it but Jihoon knows there is nothing about this he will ever want to repent. Not the steady weight of Daniel’s arm wrapped around him, hand warm on his hip. Not the way Daniel’s lips are moving against his own, so slowly and reverently it’s like he’s saying a prayer. Not the frantic heartbeat Jihoon can feel under his palm as he rests it on Daniel’s chest, telling him that, in spite of his earlier antics, this means as much to Daniel as it does to Jihoon.

Daniel holds him so carefully, it reminds Jihoon of the way he had steadied him during the pepero game, hands light on his jaw. Like Jihoon is something worth treasuring. It’s sweet in a different way to the pepero had been and it makes something well up inside Jihoon, something so immense, so overwhelming that he cannot put a name to it, no matter how much he has known, for some time now, that his feelings for Daniel go far beyond those of a colleague or a friend.

The kiss is tentative, at first, as if Daniel fears Jihoon might break, and in all honesty ― something inside him does. All the tension, guilt, and uncertainty ― all that has been building up inside Jihoon for the past few months, growing like a tidal wave ― it breaks, rushing upon him and sweeping him away in a catharsis that unburdens Jihoon’s spirit, even as he trusts Daniel to hold him above the swirling remnants of negativity as they dissolve like foam.

In its wake, comes flooding out all the affection Jihoon has tried to suppress. Now that Daniel’s lips on his have granted permission, Jihoon is unable to hold it back, and he wants to show it all to Daniel. How much he wants him, likes him ― loves, even ― and so much so that rather than rendering him weak, it strengthens him instead, so that Daniel need not fear he will come to pieces in his hands.

Jihoon tilts his head as he kisses back with fervour, hand no longer resting idle but instead grasping tightly at the front of Daniel’s shirt even as the other snakes up to twine its fingers in the hair at the base of Daniel’s neck. Jihoon thinks he must be getting his point across when Daniel pulls him closer, holding him more tightly, fingers digging into his hip bone. The groan that eases its way out of Daniel’s mouth when Jihoon sucks harshly on his lower lip seems to reverberate through Jihoon like an echo, causing the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck to rise.

As the dishwater cools and the dishes themselves become forgotten, Jihoon finds himself very, very glad that their first kiss was not one in front of an audience, but instead the first of many that they can keep between just the two of them.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! ♡ if you have any concrit to share i'd love to hear it x
> 
> today is only the first day of @nielwink_month's main event, but make sure you keep an eye out for all the fics and other fanworks that are going to be posted this week! i'm excited hhhh


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